


Just One Second

by Anonyma



Category: Hotline Miami (Video Games)
Genre: Domestic, Smoking, even tho everyone who follows me is teen and up. lol, is it bodyguard? you decide., mild nsfw language, one (1) suggestive thing, thats why its like TEEN AND UP HEHEHUHU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-17 08:47:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21051584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonyma/pseuds/Anonyma
Summary: Tiny tiny drabbles based on words given to me. Domestic as fuck.





	Just One Second

**Author's Note:**

> as always, Biker is Damon and Son is Sasha. Continuity, babes

Banana 

Damon was not a stellar cook by any means. He was, to his credit, not Sasha, however. Damon often forgot steps during cooking, mainly the addition of salt, so his food was rather bland- such as the rice he'd just finished making- but Sasha was fully allergic to the kitchen. 

That didn't keep him from trying, though, as made evident by the fact he was peeling and cutting a banana over a sizzling frying pan. 

“Whatcha doin’,” Damon didn't even ask, he merely sighed out the words as if he were talking to a naughty pet. 

Sasha didn't even turn around to look at him, and Damon didn't look away from the TV. If disaster struck, it would strike no matter where either of them looked. 

“I,” Sasha announced triumphantly as he set the banana peel aside, “am frying a banana.”

“Any reason why?” Damon genuinely asked this time, flicking through channels in hopes of landing on something entertaining. 

“To shove up my ass,” Sasha deadpanned with a roll of his eyes. 

“So I can eat it out?” Damon instantly followed up, to which Sasha replied “duh,” as well as with a hiss. He'd already been burned by splashes of oil twice. 

“Why the fuck do people fry bananas, Dames? It's to eat with your rice. People say it's damn good…”

“As long as you don't burn it,” Damon smirked and sank into the couch. Only three seconds went by before he could smell that they were shit out of luck. “Ship sailed, huh.” 

“Uuh…” Sasha didn't sound displeased with the fact that his banana had, as with everything else he tried to cook, turned black. Instead he sounded perplexed. 

“What, is it supposed to smell like that?” Damon muted the already quiet television and sat back up, finally tearing his eyes away from the screen…

Just in time to see Sasha lock eyes with him as he held up his bleeding thumb. 

  
  
  


Smoking

“Dammit, Sash, how many times have I told you not to smoke in the house unless you crack a window open?”

Damon didn't mind the smell of cigarette smoke too much, like he didn't mind the smell of gasoline, but he could only really tolerate it fresh. If it permeated anything- clothes, cushions, walls- he went berserk. He couldn't quite explain why it was, but something about cold smoke stuck to clothes made him feel a spike of anxiety. 

“It's raining,” Sasha whined, as if a few drops of water would ruin his life, or worse, his smoke. 

“I don't give a shit. My house, my rules,” Damon held his hand out to demand Sasha surrender the cigarette. 

“But I've been paying the bills!” Sasha replied with a pout. He knew Damon was seconds from taking the cigarette by force. 

“It goes or you do, final warning!”

Sasha clicked his tongue and walked around Damon to exit the apartment, the latter following after him in annoyance. 

“I'm not in the house,” Sasha grinned mischievously as soon as Damon's head was out the door. “So it don't count.”

With an agitated roar, the biker threw himself at the jester of a man in front of him, aiming to wrestle the cigarette out of his hands. Sasha, who had been mid drag, hit the wall and stared in awe as Damon had him pinned. 

“What now, huh, Ruski? Whatcha gonna do? Call for backup? Your air pollution days are finished, jacka-”

His grip on Sasha hadn't been very strong. At least, it hadn't been strong enough to keep him from freeing his arm and pulling Damon's head close for a kiss. 

It was warm and sweet for a second or two, and certainly not unwelcome, until Damon noticed the familiar ashen taste on his tongue. 

Smoke blew from his nostrils as he jerked back and shouted in disgust before wiping his lips with the back of his hand. Sasha just laughed that intense, eye-watering, belly-clutching laugh he only had when he found something to be supremely amusing. 

“I hate you!” Damon cried out without any weight behind his words. He pulled Sasha into a headlock and wrestled with him even as he continued to laugh. 

“Say the other one!” Sasha wheezed and struggled against him, his cigarette now crumpled on the floor. 

“No, you don't deserve it after that!” Damon protested through gritted teeth. 

“Say it,” Sasha taunted. “You know you wanna, it's written all over your face.”

“No,” Damon bit his lip and looked away. 

“Fine, then I will.” 

A few whispered words and all transgressions were forgiven. 

Pineapples

Grocery shopping had become one of those things that alone were a drag, but together were actually sort of fun, which was a good thing seeing as neither of them would want to do it otherwise. Damon tended to only buy what he considered to be essential (bread and milk) so he could get out of the store as soon as possible, and Sasha hadn't had to buy food for himself a day in his life, so he ended up coming home with junk food and little else. 

Together they could actually consult with one another and buy things they liked while also getting what they needed, with the added bonus of having someone to talk to. 

“Catch!”

And throw things at. 

Sasha caught the pineapple as if it were a football and turned it over in his hand like he wasn't sure what it was. “Of course, apple of pine. Looks just like you when you do your hair up.” 

Damon removed his headband and pulled his hair up into a high ponytail as he walked over to rest his arms against the shopping cart. 

“Uncanny,” Sasha nodded, holding out the pineapple at Damon's face height. 

“Which one's the real Stein?” Damon joked. 

“This one!” Sasha brought the pineapple in for a little kiss, forgetting his lips weren't as used to rough things as his hands were. “Ouch.”

Damon snorted and gently pushed the cart against Sasha to urge him to drop the pineapple inside. “Guess what I'm wearing today.” 

“Eh?” Before Sasha could come up with something, Damon was pulling his pants down just enough to reveal a fraction of his boxers. “Oh shit, it's like a dream within a dream.”

Little pineapples adorned the fabric, plastered all over a cheerful blue background. One of many pairs of fun boxers the biker owned. 

Damon walked around Sasha and gave his shoulder a little rub before drifting down the aisle, and Sasha happily remained by the cart to study its contents, up until something clicked in his head which caused him to immediately straighten his posture. 

“Wait, are you trying to tell me something!?”

  


Cat

Out of the two, Sasha was the lighter sleeper, but that only really meant that if you touched him, he'd half wake up. Damon could sleep through a fire, but oddly enough, if you stared at his sleeping face for more than ten seconds, he'd know he was being watched and snap awake. 

Seeing as Sasha only cast him a loving glance before sliding out of bed, the most Damon did in response was sigh and cuddle into the warmth he'd left behind. 

For whatever reason, Sasha was hungry. Not hungry enough for a whole meal, but certainly hungry enough to have been woken up. Shuffling through the tiny apartment, he figured an apple would be enough to see him through the rest of the night. 

The light from the fridge blinded his lone eye and caused him to stagger back. What the fuck was he doing? Apples weren't kept in the fridge! The already dark apartment became pitch black as he staggered through the kitchen looking for his fruit, fruitlessly trying to blink away the white spot in his eye. 

Apple now in hand, he miraculously managed to avoid the small kitchen table, only for his foot to catch on something and send him flying onto the couch. 

Damon may have been able to sleep through a fire, or an earthquake, or, say, a nuke dropping over his house, but there was one thing that woke him up even more effectively than being stared at- and that was the familiar cry of “сука блять”. 

Sasha's voice, especially when it was in some form of distress, always got his attention no matter what he was doing or how much other noise was around him. Freaky, maybe, but useful to someone who wanted to keep someone else safe. 

Therefore, after hearing him fall and curse, Damon sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes despite having been in the middle of a good dream. “Sash…?”

A few moments later and the lights were on, revealing Sasha rubbing his foot on the couch as he glared at the ridiculous taxidermied cheetah residing in the middle of the space. 

“Didja trip over Raoul?” Damon inquired sleepily, failing to notice the apple at his feet. 

“Stupid thing,” Sasha grunted, but quickly fell silent. His face muscles relaxed and he shifted from rubbing his injury to loosely holding himself. “I wanna paint it black.”

“Won't that make it harder to see?” Damon yawned and perched himself on the armrest. 

“Not black, sorry- purple, dark purple.” Sasha rubbed his cheek and sighed gently. “The dumb things were dark purple.”

Damon was a little lost, not aided by his tired state, but he leaned over to rest his head atop Sasha's anyway. 

“What the hell did they find in Hawaii anyway? And here in Florida? Why are there purple panthers and guys with pink eyes and blue hair…” Sasha closed his eyes and rested his head against Damon's chest. 

“Some fucked shit. I try not to think about it.” Damon murmured in response while draping his arms around Sasha's shoulders. “Rest of the world's not this fucked.”

Sasha remained silent in his hold for a long time. Eventually, though, the overhead light was too much for him and he turned to shield his face. 

“Let's go back to bed,” Damon offered with a little rub to the base of Sasha's neck. 

“My father…” Sasha mumbled without much explanation. “They were his panthers, not mine. But I still miss ‘em.”

Everything made a little more sense now. Damon gave Sasha a soft squeeze and didn't say anything more. 

“He would've liked you,” Sasha continued to mumble. “But he would've refused to admit it.” 

Damon didn't know if this fact made him happy or sad. 

  


Oasis

They'd been waiting for the sun to set for twenty minutes now, having come to the beach directly from the mob’s headquarters. Damon had needed to clean up some files and Sasha had needed to make a call, but they'd managed to deal with their responsibilities within the hour and had been left with a whole day to spare. 

After bumming about on the boardwalk and grabbing something to eat, the two now sat on the sand and looked out at the ocean, eager to see the sky’s flames kiss the sea. 

Sasha had changed out of his suit in the car, so he had no qualms about not having a towel to sit on. Damon liked not having to surrender his upper garment for him to use as a seat, though at the same time, the request to do so was always sort of endearing. 

“As great as it is to not have blood on my hands twenty-four seven," Sasha mused, "I gotta say sometimes I feel like this place is kinda…”

“Small?” Damon finished Sasha's sentence with a guess, to which the mobster nodded slowly. “That feeling's why I left Tamarac. And I always expected it'd come back here, but it's not as strong as I thought it would be."

“How do you deal with it?” Sasha arched his back until it popped. 

“I look for new places. Little streets I haven't been down, dive bars I haven't had a drink in, record shops that look like they're about to close down…” 

Sasha listened intently to Damon, folding his legs up to hold them to his chest. 

“And then I plan roadtrips. Just in case I wanna take a real breather,” Damon offered Sasha a wide smile, which he reciprocated. 

“Sounds good, but… There's another kind of small that I'm taking into account,” Sasha hummed. “When routine becomes repetitive. When every day feels like a prison- ah, not with you, though…”

“Hey, I'm not offended. I feel the same,” Damon nodded slowly. “It's why I do everything I can to make sure no two days are the same. I couldn't deal with that. Even if the difference is as small as taking a right turn instead of a left. If I'm still for too long, alone in silence…”

“It all comes back to you. The people you lost. The people you left behind. And at that point there's nothing you can do to block all that shit out,” Sasha concluded for him. His frown was heavy as he looked out at the calm waves. 

Damon shuffled over to rest his head against Sasha's shoulder. He didn't usually dish out affection in public, and it had taken him a while to get used to the concept at all, but right now this comfort was all he wanted. 

“Dames?” Sasha asked softly. 

“Hmm?”

“Let's find a desert island and move there.”

Sasha loved the thrill of his position, he loved how important he felt and how much he could get away with, but sometimes the reality of his situation weighed down on him hard enough to make his ribs hurt. Sometimes he just wanted to be a regular guy with no obligations who could goof off all day with his boyfriend without having to wake up the next day and beat a dude up for info. 

Right now was one of those times, and the way Damon turned his head to kiss his shoulder let him know that, whatever he was dealing with, he wanted to run away from it too.

**Author's Note:**

> anyway heres wonderwall
> 
> thanks to everyone who sent these in! they were from anons & feaheart & i-do-as-i-want on tumblr!  
sorry the writing isnt very polished or anything, these were super quick. i feel im losing my touch ;_;


End file.
